Venom
by Montley
Summary: Hermione Granger has a secret, and that secret involves a certain petulant ex-Dark Lord. (Follows canon except for the epilogue)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story follows all of canon besides for the epilogue and takes place about seven years after the war. I plan for this story to be about 10-11 chapters.**

**This will be the shortest chapter, and it is really an introduction chapter, not necessarily a prologue, as the next chapter will pick up right where this one leaves off. I hope that you all enjoy. **

* * *

Venom

By Montley

"For she's a jolly good fellow! For she's a golly jood fellow! For she's not mellooooow! And aaaalll the rest of the woooords!" Ron and George slurred as they sloshed bottles of beer in their hands while Hermione laughed along at their antics.

"You're sweet, Ron," Hermione told him, and kissed his reddened, freckled nose. He released his arm from around George's shoulders and seized Hermione in an embrace. He leaned towards her and pressed a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

"Much happy birthday, 'Mione," Ron slurred, his eyes focusing back on his drink. She giggled once more before pressing the palm of her hand against Ron's neck, pulling him closer and touching her lips against his.

Their lips parted, and Ron gave her his goofy smile in return. Hermione could tell that every time that they kissed, it was like the first time to him. Ron would always remember the time during the heat of battle when their lips first pressed together. But for her, there was nothing. Yet he never noticed. Why would he? Perhaps this time it was only the taste of the liquor upon his lips affecting her sensibilities.

Hermione choked down a sob as her eyes glanced at the shining ring around her finger. He could not know. She still loved him, more than he could possibly know. It was just…different.

Ron had even planned this little get together for her behalf. She had originally not wished to do anything at all for her twenty-fifth birthday. It was nothing special to her. She needed to go back to work anyway, as soon as possible. Yet, Ron never took no for an acceptable answer.

So, he invited their friends for a get-together. She had not seen most of them like Luna and Neville for a long time, so it was _nice. _Then, Ron popped the question, and in front of all of their friends, she could not say no to him. Ginny was elated, and Harry already proclaimed himself the Best Man as Hermione felt as though she was drowning, as though she was witnessing this whole exchange outside of her body.

Afterwards they all made their way to the Leaky Cauldron for a celebratory drink, which turned into celebratory drinks.

"I really have to go, Ron," Hermione told him, pressing another kiss on his freckled cheek.

"No, no, M-'Mione," he attempted to plead. She stepped away from the bar and wrapped her coat around her, bunching its warmth upon her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized. "Goodbye all thank you so much for this outing, but I really have to go. It's imperative."

"Hermione! Not again!" Harry complained. "Live a little, it's your birthday for Merlin's sake!"

"I'm sorry, Harry, really it's been a fantastic time, and I've already been out for more than usual," she told him. He rolled his eyes and stumbled away from the bar, and Hermione noticed that Ron had now passed out upon the bar with drool slinking from his chapped lips.

Harry wrapped his arms around her. "Happy birthday, Hermione and congratulations. Ron was so happy, of course you can't really tell now, eh?"

He laughed at he gestured towards the drooling Ron. Hermione smirked and kissed Harry's cheek. Harry's glasses were lopsided, and she could smell the fire whiskey lingering on his breath.

"Thanks, Harry, but I've got to go," she repeated, and she pulled her wand out of her pocket.

"Don't stay away from us all too long, eh, you've gotta get your head away from work sometimes. I know you're an Unspeakable, and you can't speak to us about it, but seriously, time off wouldn't hurt," he told her, a concerned look laced within his bright, green eyes.

"I-I know, Harry, love you too," she told him with a shake of her head. "But I seriously have to leave."

"Fine, I abdicate my efforts," he relented, his arms in the air. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," she said through gritted teeth before she warped herself through the familiar throes of apparition, appearing before that one familiar telephone booth.

Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. The air surrounding her was frigid. Her birthday was never particularly pleasant weather wise. There was always rain and coldness trickling up her spine. Each year it only grew worse, especially now that…

Her hand traced the edge of the phone booth as she entered, a chill running upon the back of her spine knowing what was waiting for her in its bottomless pits. What a fantastic way to end her birthday! The booth began lowering her down into the pitch black darkness. It may be the guest entrance, but she preferred it to the nasty toilets or even Floo powder. It was a way to touch her old Muggle life and mock _him._ She was laughed at for using this entrance, but she laughed at everyone else in her wake.

Her flats reverberated against the hard floor with every step she took when the phone booth finally brought her inside the Ministry. Everyone else had already left these empty, isolated halls. She headed towards the elevator and let it lower herself down into the bowels of the Ministry.

"Department of Mysteries," the clear feminine voice called out. Hermione quickly departed the elevator, and it shut behind her. With a deep breath, she surged forwards throughout the Department, heading towards that same familiar door. She bumbled around through the familiar twists and turns that she went through every day.

Soon, she was in front of the room. She held out her fist in front of her and began to knock twice. The door clicked open and in front of her was her frazzled co-worker.

"Finally you're here," Theo Nott said with a roll of his eyes.

"Sorry I'm late, Theo, my friends held me up at the bar," Hermione explained frivolously.

"You have friends?" Theo pondered, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Funny," Hermione drawled, and she gave him a small punch on his arm.

"Right, it's your birthday, isn't it?" Nott asked, guilty that he had forgotten.

"Yes, but don't worry about it, Theo, I could care less about my birthday as it is. You can go now, I'll take over," Hermione told him as she pushed her way into the room.

"See you then, 'Mione! Happy birthday!" Nott said as his farewell as he began to leave the department.

"Wait!" Hermione called out. "Any progress or new information?"

"No!" Nott called back through the passageways. "He's too irresolute to talk to me! Everything else is as normal as it can be!"

"Thanks!" Hermione waved Nott farewell as she entered the room and shut the door behind her. She stepped inside and saw the same transparent glass cage surrounded by wards cast by herself, Nott and Kingsley. No one could get in or out if they weren't one of them.

Hermione waved her wand in front of the wards and stepped inside, feeling the wards undulating around her body and greeting her solemnly. She progressed further inside the glass room with taunting whispers flowing in and out of her perked ears; prolonged exposure in the room can turn a person mad, but their prisoner has not even flinched once. Perhaps it's because he's already mad as one can be.

And there he was, seated calmly in a sharp, steel chair, his hands pressed together.

The supposed dead, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

* * *

**A/N: I hope that you guys liked this, and I know, cliffhanger huh? I thought that the intro chapter was best off ending here. The next chapter is almost done and will be up soon! Either tonight or tomorrow. it will also be much longer than this. **

**Anyway, please review! Reviews are always an encouragement to keep writing!**

**Love,**

**Montley**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all so much for the follow, favorites and reviews. It means so much to me that this story quickly got so much positive reception! _

_Warning: This begins out weird, but as the story goes along, IT WILL ALL BE EXPLAINED. So no flames please ;). Also, this story is not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. _

**Chapter 2**

xXx

_Two weeks ago_

Hermione and Theo Nott, two Unspeakables for the Department of Mysteries, strolled through the halls of the Ministry on their way to the Minister's office in replace of their Department Head, Quentin Bulstrode. Originally, it was supposed to be a meeting between Quentin and Kingsley, but Quentin chose to send them in his place instead. Hermione was his second-in-command and Nott was also high in the division. Rather, Quentin was too reluctant to speak with Kingsley himself, choosing to instead, take another senseless nap. Hermione did not like her department head, but she estimated that he was five years away from a hopeful retirement, so she strived through his constant annoyances and requests.

"What do you think Kinglsey wants this time?" Nott asked on their way to the office.

"Probably to speak about Goldstein's incident last week and we're going to handle it. I hope Anthony won't be fired for this," Hermione answered, and Nott nodded.

"I'd be a shame," Nott said. "It was only an accident. So we're going to defend the chap right?"

"Course, Theo," Hermione agreed with a smile.

Suddenly, Hermione's lower right side flared up in pain, and her whole body flinched and grimaced. That damn area had bothered her for years after the war ceased. She had initially surmised that it must be a sustaining injury from the battle, either a stray curse or a wound that was not fully healed. Yet, a year after the war and troubled intimacy, Ron made her see a Healer. After some diagnostics the Healer had told her that there was nothing there and there was nothing anyone could do, and that it was not at all detrimental to her health. So she left it alone. But that didn't stop it from flaring up every now and again.

Nott stopped walking as he studied her. "You all right, Hermione?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she answered, pressing her hand against her side and putting on a straight face.

"You sure? Because I can talk to Kingsley about Goldstein myself if you need to go home," Nott implored.

"No, no, that's not necessary, this happens all the time. I can live with it," Hermione replied with a reassuring smile. "Let's go."

Reluctantly, Nott nodded once more and he opened the door to Kingsley's office. As Hermione continued inside his office, the pain flared up even more against her side. It was stinging and burning her, the scar testing her and laughing at her pain. Kingsley stood from his desk with a smile, and Hermione's face was passive as she and Nott shook his hand before they sat down.

"Good morning Miss Granger, Mr Nott, I'm sure you know why you're both here. Make sure to pass this all to Mr Bulstrode," Kingsley began, but Hermione found it difficult to pay attention to the man. The pain in her side would not subside, and she reached for her wand inconspicuously in an attempt to assuage the pain. Kingsley continued to drawl on, and Hermione reassured herself that no doubt Nott was paying Kingsley every bit of attention he could. Her eyes squinted through the pain; it should be over soon, it should. It never lasted this long…

But Hermione opened her eyes the moment Nott screamed, "Shit!"

Her eyes immediately darted to Nott's shocked face, and for the first time in her life she saw a baffled Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Right there in front of her chair was an alarmed-looking Tom Marvolo Riddle as naked as the day he was born. Hermione's mouth dropped, and before she could compose herself, her pain subsided, and she pointed her wand against his chest.

"Oh, hello," the naked Riddle greeted, attempting a smile. "You see, I believe there must have been a mistake with my magic, erm, as you can all tell. So I'll be on my way, thank you."

"Bastard," Hermione snarled. "Stupefy!"

A red light spurred out of her wand and knocked Riddle backwards, slamming and breaking Kingsley's desk.

"What the hell!" Nott exclaimed. "Who was that?"

"I need some answers, Hermione," Kingsley commanded as he stood from his chair.

"That-that was Tom Riddle, V-Voldemort," Hermione stuttered, not believing this to be true. How the hell could this have happened? He was dead. Everything had been perfect. And Harry…Harry…

Fuck.

xXx

_Two Weeks Later_

Two weeks ago, after Riddle appeared stark naked in Kingsley's office, Kingsley had issued that he be locked up in the Department of Mysteries as both Hermione and Nott were Unspeakables. He declared that until the time was right, or when the circumstances surrounding Riddle's appearance was solved, no one besides the three of them would know about Riddle's presence, not even Quentin or the Auror Department.

Though, Hermione knew that the information must be released soon, not to the public of course, if people like Rita Skeeter got a hold of this information, the world would explode. But she knew that the information should at least be given to Harry. Every time she spoke to him, she wanted to scream and reveal everything. For now, Kingsley only wanted to determine whether or not this copy of Riddle was the real Riddle and not some devious ploy by a Death Eater, as the copy did not look a thing like the Voldemort they knew.

Lord Voldemort, or at least, some sort of reincarnation of his original self, still sat in the steel chair, smirking and toying with Hermione without uttering a single word. Surrounding the figure was an aura of mysteriousness that Hermione, Nott and Kingsley had unfortunately yet to solve.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Riddle greeted, his face passive. "Do come in, Nott's company was growing unpleasant, and I was missing my mudblood."

During the past two weeks, Hermione learned to ignore his constant degrading comments, no matter how much it made her blood boil every time that he spoke. Though, it made her blood boil each time she was forced to even look at him. He was no longer reminiscent of his snake-like form. Riddle retained his nose, and his face was aristocratic, with sharp features and thin lips. His deep black hair had returned to his scalp, it was a perfectly formed in a fluff upon his head, in the perfect way that would make someone desire to run their fingers through it. To her, he appeared to be reminiscent of what he looked like in his late twenties, however that was possible. Luckily, Nott had given Riddle some of his hand-me-downs, so that, as Nott said, '_No one has to see his junk anymore.'_

Yet, Riddle's eyes still glinted red, revealing the treacherous psychopathic nature inside. His newfound existence was a mystery to the three of them, and now she was forced to spend most of her nights with him instead of tending to her normal duties. Whatever Death Eater or person had done this, whether it be a prank or a ploy, they would receive the highest form of punishment Hermione could concoct.

When Riddle came to them, Kingsley decided that he must be supervised by at least one of the three of them at all times. Even though it was quite humorous how Riddle came into being, Hermione wished he never had, even though the mystery was biting at her intelligence, beckoning her to solve it.

Kingsley said he would announce things about Riddle when the time was right, or when Riddle was confirmed to definitely be Voldemort and not some trick or ploy against their minds. Hermione desperately wanted to inform Harry, yet she did not wish to defy Kingsley.

So there she is every day, in front of the evil bastard who constantly smirked and chuckled, who only spoke with _her_. She despised him more than anything in the world, and she hated him for making her hide things from Harry and Ron. A _thing _like him.

"No response?" Riddle teased. "So unlike you, Miss Granger."

"You shouldn't be dignified with a response to a statement such as that," Hermione snapped as she walked towards him, pulling her wand out. His eyes looked towards her wand, and she gritted her teeth together. "Just the daily diagnostics check."

Riddle nodded his head slowly and stood from his seat and spread his long, pale arms out. She slowly ran her wand along his body. She reached her wand arm high to scan his head, but she would not let his height intimidate her, for she had special access at the moment to knee his groin. Also, she was the one with the wand at her disposal. When he appeared to them, he carried nothing at all; of course, he was as nude as the day he was unfortunately born.

"Done," Hermione muttered and immediately stood away from Riddle. He strode back to his chair and sat down, studying her.

She waved her waved and duplicated his chair, and pulled it towards herself at the opposite side of the room. She sat down and opened her purse which she had kept after the end of the war. She took out a manila folder that Quentin had bequeathed her earlier that day during her normal shift as a proper Unspeakable, not one babysitting a petulant ex-Dark Lord. She had to file some reports and collects notes upon a new conquest the department was trying to complete. She was happy to do anything that did not have to do with Riddle, even if it was in his presence.

Hermione ignored Riddle's eyes upon her as she browsed through the notes, making corrections as she went along.

"No books again? I'd really enjoy a book," he questioned, and she looked up at him and his devilish smirk.

"You don't deserve any entertainment," she snapped, looking back down at her work.

"Then why did the Minister send you to watch over me?" he teased.

She looked up and glared at him. "Don't you dare degrade me."

"Don't fret, now, Miss Granger. Your mere existence already does that for me," Riddle snarled.

"Fine, you want to talk, we'll talk," Hermione snapped and filed her papers back inside her purse. "How are you here?"

"Oh, Miss Granger." Riddle sighed and twiddled his fingers together. "You so desperately want to know, do you? It's tickling at you, teasing you, and it makes you want to scream, even torture me for a response. But I won't dignify you with one."

"As I figured," Hermione retorted. "But we'll find out eventually. How about let's discuss what I know."

"Do, do go on, I implore you," Riddle mockingly urged, feigning interest.

"During my meeting with Kingsley and Nott, you simply appeared out of thin air," she began. "At first I thought you were part of my imagination, rather, a part of my inner nightmares."

"So I frighten you," Riddle declared, inching further in his chair, a sly grin upon his face.

"You frighten everyone," Hermione stated plainly. "People called you, You-Know-Who, for many, many years, even after they believed you were dead the first time. They still call you that sometimes. You messed them up, _Voldemort. "_

"You're degrading my name with your filthy tongue. I suggest that you stop," Riddle snarled.

"So, Tom," Hermione said with a small smile. "Want to know what else I know?"

"What?" Riddle asked, his red eyes growing brighter.

"You look exactly like your Muggle father," she said, and leaned back in her seat, feeling victorious.

"Shut your filthy, little mouth, Mudblood," Riddle hissed, reminding her of her childhood enemy, Draco Malfoy. That's all this man could now amount to be, a childhood memory. She had forgotten about Riddle years ago, and she was able to move on with her life past the war. But here he was again, ready to torture more innocent souls.

Hermione smirked and pulled out her files again as she crossed her legs and resumed her work. She could feel his eyes still lingering upon her, but she would not let him bother her. For all she knew, he might not even be real. They would know when Kingsley's results returned from St. Mungo's. Inside of St. Mungo's, Kingsley claimed he had a confidante, who would inform him whether or not Riddle was human, a fake, or whatever the hell he could possibly be. They would not know for a while.

"I'm bored," Riddle suddenly complained after a few hours. "At least bring me a book. What's the harm? At least the voices around me are somewhat entertaining, but they're getting old."

"How about you just die?" Hermione suggested with a shrug as she continued to work. "I'm sure Hell will be quite thrilling. Tell the devil I say hello."

"I don't plan on it," Riddle quipped. "Rather, I plan on murdering everyone else, sending them all to the bowels of Hell where they belong. Twisting their pathetic little souls, and eating their hearts out for dinner."

"Which you won't," Hermione retorted. "You can't leave here, and you won't leave here. If anything, you'll finally leave here when you die, or when we choose to kill you."

"I can leave whenever I'd like," Riddle calmly replied. "I assure you."

Hermione looked up from her endless papers. "Good to know."

Riddle then became mute for her remaining hours in the room that day, and that was how she liked it. The voices within the room began to laugh, and she could feel their whispers tickling her ears, mocking her presence in the room.

At six in the morning, Kingsley finally arrived, and Hermione leaped when the knock on the door finally sounded. With a small farewell to Kingsley, she dashed out of the room, not looking back at Riddle, whose eyes never left her.

Once she was outside of the Ministry, she immediately apparated home, relieved to finally have a welcoming bed instead of Riddle's cold presence and an uncomfortable steel chair. She entered her small bedroom and gladly collapsed upon her warm mattress, falling into a deep slumber.

xXx

"Hermione, wake up," a voice urged, lulling her away from the beautifulness that sleep so rarely offered her.

"No," she murmured, her eyes still closed, wishing to fall back into the beautiful land of dreams, away from the nightmare that is her life.

"It's three in the afternoon. You wanted to go out at four. Remember?" the voice said in a soothing manner. A hand began to brush her bushy hair out of her face, and Hermione groaned, finally blinking her eyes open.

"Ergh," Hermione moaned as her vision came into focus, and she made out Ginny sitting on her bed. "Oh, Ginny, whaddya want?"

"Remember, we were going to go to that Muggle place you recommend to you know…" Ginny urged.

"I know what now?" Hermione asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"To discuss wedding plans!" Ginny shrieked. "Remember, you helped me out for mine and Harry's wedding, so I'm here to return the favor of course!"

"W-wedding!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting upright in her bed.

"Dammit Hermione, look at your left hand," Ginny snapped. "Ron proposed to you last night! On your birthday!"

"Right, right, sorry, not used to being awake right now," Hermione replied, taking deep breaths to let the shock flow out of her system. "Shit, I'm engaged."

"Yes, yes you are. Now get up and get dressed," Ginny ordered, standing from the bed and forcefully pulling Hermione out. "That's what you were wearing last night, Hermione! Merlin's beard!"

"Oh, right," Hermione muttered, looking down at her current clothes. "Let me, uh, let me fix that."

"I'll be on your couch when you're done," Ginny said, and she strolled out of the room.

Hermione groaned and ran her fingers through her hair, the last thing she wanted to do was to discuss her impending wedding. And remembering Ron's face only made the situation worse. She hadn't even remembered making plans with Ginny.

Hastily, she pulled on some clothes and quickly ran a brush through her hair. Ginny smiled at her when she finally left her bedroom and Hermione apparated them to an alley relatively close to a small Muggle café in London.

They turned the corner out of the alley and made their way towards the small café. At the counter Hermione ordered a coffee and some jammie dodgers to keep herself alert while Ginny ordered tea and a muffin.

"This place is adorable," Ginny cooed. "Now wedding time."

Hermione chuckled. "We haven't even set a date yet, and I just got engaged yesterday, not even twenty-four hours. Are you sure that this is necessary now?"

"Well, we do have to discuss a few things, like for example, I'm definitely your maid of honor," Ginny remarked.

"I thought that was pretty axiomatic." Hermione sniggered as she drank her coffee.

"And I think I know who can be the ring bearer or the flower girl if the timing is right, which it better be. You don't have to get married _right _away," Ginny continued, a snide look in her eyes.

"Oh, and who's that?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, I've been meaning to tell you this for, well, not that long, but still. Anyway," Ginny paused and smiled, mischievousness laced in her eyes. "It could be my kid."

"Y-your k-kid," Hermione stuttered as Ginny sat back in her seat triumphantly and smirked at her. "You're pregnant!"

"That I am m'dear, and this kid," Ginny continued, gesturing towards her stomach. "Will have a badass Bat Bogey Hex, I assure you."

"Oh my God, congratulations!" Hermione shrieked, standing from her seat and hugging Ginny tightly.

"And of course, you and Ron will be godparents to this little fellow, or fella," Ginny said.

"Wow," Hermione said with a gracious smile. "I'm honored."

"You're welcome," Ginny remarked.

Hermione sat back down in her small, steel chair. "How far along are you?"

"Oh, about four weeks, I only found out two nights ago though, didn't want to take the attention off of you last night, birthday girl. It's probably four weeks anyway, but Harry and I are monkeys in the sack, we just go at it all the time, so it's hard to tell as we-," Ginny rambled, but Hermione cut her off.

"Okay, too much information." Hermione laughed.

"What? I bet you and Ron are monkeys in the sack as well. Wait, ew, my brother, I'll just stop here," Ginny continued, and noticed Hermione flushed red, her eyes darted towards the ground. "What, you don't?"

"Well, uh, I work a lot," Hermione muttered. "There's not much, uh, time, and since we don't live together yet. Oh Merlin, I don't know."

"It's all right. When your honeymoon comes along, that's all it's going to be, all day and all night," Ginny reassured. "Perk up! I'm pregnant!"

"It's fantastic, Ginny," Hermione commented. "I can't wait to meet the little guy or girl."

"And he or she will love a great babysitter," Ginny teased.

"Oh really?" Hermione sniggered.

"Yup!"

"Oh, shit," Hermione moaned, her eyes diverted to the clock on the wall.

"What is it?"

"I have to go." Hermione sighed and stood from her seat as she finished her coffee. "My shift starts in about ten minutes."

"Damn, they're overworking your arse," Ginny remarked.

"They have their reasons," Hermione mumbled as she walked over to Ginny and hugged her.

"Guess we didn't get any wedding planning done," Ginny said sadly, her lips pursed.

"It's fine, there's plenty of time to do all that crap," Hermione reassured as she parted the hug.

"Fine, but I'll be seeing you soon. And I mean it! Soon!" Ginny called after her after Hermione hurried out of the café.

"Goodbye!" Hermione called back as she dashed towards the alley. She waved her wand and apparated away near the Ministry's phone booth once more, on her way to the depths of Hell and Riddle's evil grin.

It made her sick.

xXx

_A/N: _ _Again, thank you all for the support, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Yes, things are weird, especially in the beginning and how/why Riddle's here. But trust me, it'll all be explained later in the story. Bit of a mystery, eh, ;)_

_Anyway, please leave a review (those little things right there get me all encouraged to write and stuff). _

_Love,_

_Montley_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Wow, I am so amazed! Thank you all so much for your support. This story has already gotten over a thousand hits and so many follows, favorites and more reviews than I would have thought. _

_Thank you all so much, especially those who reviewed. _

_This chapter is a bit fillerish, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! Sorry that it is out later than I had hoped. _

_Again, this story isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. _

xXx

Chapter Three

Hermione sat at her desk in her flat, and pulled at her hair in stress. She wanted more than anything to shove her pencil straight through her ear, but that would not end well. Currently, she was continuing her research upon Riddle, how he could possibly exist, how he could remain young, in appearance, and how he was so…_human. _Yet, she was at a standstill. All the horcruxes were destroyed, and there was no other evidence of precautions for his conquest for immortality. It was not fair how he could still wander among the Earth while so many were buried under it because of a lone spell from his wand.

She heard keys in the door of her flat jingle, and the doorknob turned. She whipped around from her papers and watched as Ron entered the flat.

"Hey, Hermione," he greeted with a smile, a bag of Chinese food in his hands. "Got the food."

"Great," Hermione said as she shuffled through her papers and stuffed them inside her portfolio. She maneuvered towards Ron as he entered the kitchenette and began taking out utensils as Ron took out the food.

They began eating, and Ron savored every taste of the Chinese food. These days, neither of them had any time to cook themselves, so they preferred investing in delicious take-out, and Hermione's favorite was Chinese.

"So, whatcha doing at work these days?" Ron asked through bites.

"Oh, you know, secret stuff," Hermione muttered.

"Right, 'unspeakable' things," Ron said, and the both of them chortled. "Anyway, after work I went to see my mum today, and I finally told her about the engagement."

"Oh, what'd she say?"

"She's thrilled, almost started weeping, so happy to have another Mrs Weasley in the family," Ron replied with a wide toothy grin.

"Oh, erm, actually Ron." Hermione paused, and her eyes diverted towards the food on her plate. "I reckon I'm keeping my last name."

Ron was silent for a moment before he replied, "Yeah, yeah, that's fine, I mean I don't care whether or not you take my name, just as long as we're married, you know."

Hermione beamed. "I was worried that you'd, well…"

Ron chuckled. "We're not in sixth year anymore, Hermione. I've matured, you know."

He then proceeded to lean back in his chair, spread his legs and tickle his armpit to elicit some humorous reaction out of Hermione. Hermione giggled, and Ron straightened and began to discuss with her his most recent arrest with Harry today. They had apprehended a witch who had tortured her Muggle husband with the Cruciatus; the man had been defenseless, but Ron assumed that the man had betrayed her, yet there was no excuse for using the Cruciatus. There never was.

"Anyway, back to the wedding," Ron said suddenly, and Hermione perked her eyes up. "How soon do you want to get married? We should discuss the basics."

"Soon?!" Hermione squeaked, reiterating Ron, and his lips spread into a large smile.

"Soon!" he repeated excitedly. "Yeah, yeah. Mum will be more than happy to help plan the wedding, since I know it's not really your thing, and she helped Audrey, Fleur and Angelina before."

"Right," Hermione blurted.

"Great. Fantastic," Ron chirped. "So, Hermione, can I stay the night? It's late, and we may as well get used to it," Ron asked her, puppy dog's look in his eyes. She smiled.

"Of course, Ron, it's not like you haven't before, and I suppose we'll get a house soon, like Harry and Ginny," she suggested as she began to throw away the garbage.

"Right, yeah," Ron agreed, and he approached her, and turned her around from the sink. "I love you."

"I love you too, Ron," Hermione conceded with a half-smile. Ron leaned down and softly pressed his chapped lips against hers, running his hands against her sides. Hermione gulped as she prevented tears from prickling her eyes.

xXx

Hermione sat in Kingsley's office, her thumbs twiddling and her legs crossed as she waited for Kingsley to return. He had summoned her here before she was to go down and supervise Riddle once more. Nott was supposed to have a meeting with Kingsley after she would relieve Nott of his duties for the day. The door to the office opened and shut with a sharp click, and she listened to the sweep of Kingsley's cloak resonating through the room.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Kinglsey greeted, and sat down at his desk, facing her with a smile.

"Good morning, Minister," Hermione reciprocated as she faced him, glimmer of sweat trickling down her forehead.

"No need to be nervous, Miss Granger," Kingsley said, "I just have some updates about Riddle."

"Of course."

"Results from my confidante at St. Mungo's returned yesterday night, and Riddle is shown to be human through it, yet with traces of lingering dark magic within his blood stream," Kingsley informed.

"Are you aware what the dark magic is?" Hermione asked.

"No," Kingsley responded flatly. "My confidante did any and all tests as he could, but there was nothing to be revealed except for the traces."

"It could possibly be remaining horcrux magic within his system," Hermione suggested. "I've being doing countless research, but there was nothing plausible that I could find that would be able to sustain both his youth and immortality, it's quite mystifying. There's also remains the fact that it isn't him, instead some sort of creation by one of his followers."

"I'm afraid I must disagree with that option. I believe that it is him, as I said, he is human, but with remnants of dark magic," Kingsley replied with a bleak sadness in his dim eyes.

"Of course." Hermione sighed and bit her lip. "Then the Auror Department needs to know. It's imperative."

"I was worried it would come to this," Kingsley stated. "I wish that he was not back. This was a peaceful time with no wars or strife to harm our world, but with him back, I do not know anymore. All I wish is for the community to be safe. Once the tests at St. Mungo's are officially done, I will tell the Auror Department, hopefully within the week. It is necessary to have these tests complete and prove that, that man, is indeed Riddle. The is no need for the world to go into panic otherwise. Once the Auror Department knows, it will leak to the _Daily Prophet_, and then it is all over for us all."

"I am aware, but we have him in custody, and we can do what we'd like. He deserves a death penalty for his crimes against nature and against the world," Hermione said urgently, leaning closer to Kingsley, her hands gripping the edge of her seat. "We can't have any more unnecessary deaths."

"And what if he comes back again?" Kingsley pointed out. "We need to keep him alive or around as long as necessary to define how he returned once more, and destroy its root. I need you to question him, Miss Granger, to the best of your abilities. Define who he is, and then we can destroy him."

"Will Nott be receiving the same assignment?" Hermione asked.

"No. Riddle refuses to speak with Nott and myself, it's just you Miss Granger. He _likes _you," Kingsley remarked. "You need to access his core and figure him out."

"But, what if-" Hermione began.

"You're a remarkable witch, one of the best that I've seen, and I would not be surprised if this is your office one day, so I don't wish to hear any what ifs, you can do this. You're a Gryffindor, there's no need to let him get to you, or let him make you fear him," Kingsley reassured. "Now go, and begin now. He will speak to you, I'm sure of it."

"Yes, Minister," Hermione muttered, feeling heat rise to grace her cheeks.

"I have prepared some questions for you to get your started today, as this is last minute," Kingsley told her, handing her a sheet of parchment paper. Hesitantly, Hermione grasped it and slid it inside her bag. "Though, feel free to ask your own questions."

"Yes, Minister," Hermione repeated, and she stood from her seat and strode out of Kingsley's office, pressing her bag against her side.

Before, all she had to do was supervise the irresolute git, but now… it was all on her. She could picture Riddle laughing at her, the whispering voices in that room teasing her, leading her to his mocking and vile grin, pulling her towards the darkness before she could say and single word. And she was not even downstairs yet.

With the troubling thoughts circling around her mind, her legs were shaky, as though a Jelly Legs Jinx was cast upon them. As Kingsley said, _she's a Gryffindor, _she should not be afraid of a defenseless man without his wand. But that defenseless man killed, strove to eliminate her kind, one who attempted to murder a one-year old baby.

It was not fair that this vile man could return whilst those he killed rotted, and while those he wanted to kill, or those whose family members he killed, cried themselves to sleep at night in fear that he would return. And here he was, young and smirking. To her, he is the anti-Christ with a Chesire, tantalizing grin.

Yet, an important lesson she had learned throughout her years on the planet, life is not fair.

So there she was, knocking once again on the door that began to haunt her nightmares, waiting for Nott to open it again.

In an instant, a relieved Nott was at the door. "Good you're here. I have a date tonight, and I really have to go."

"Oh," Hermione said, a half-smile pressed against her face. "With who?"

"Uh, you remember Daphne," Nott said, his hand reaching behind his head.

"I do," Hermione replied. "Have fun then."

"Thanks," Nott muttered, holding the door open for her. She entered and Nott swept away before she could bid him farewell.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward once again into the empty, isolated room of nightmares. The wards flowed around her body as she walked through, and she felt his eyes almost immediately upon her.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he greeted.

"I'm surprised you know the time of day," Hermione retorted as she saw him once again sitting upon the steel chair.

"It isn't difficult, you see. I can tell from how dark your eyes can be during the morning, and how Nott flinched at his watch the whole time he was here today, tracking down the endless time, waiting until he can leave and fuck his date." Riddle smirked.

"You're vile," Hermione snapped. Riddle said nothing as he watched Hermione walk into the room and sit down in the opposite steel chair. "But I would like to ask you a few questions."

"No, you may not," he responded without blinking an eye.

"But you're under custody-," Hermione started to splutter.

"And that does not mean I have to say a damn word, does it?" Riddle sneered, his dark eyes glowering at her.

"I-I suppose not, but I will pose the questions nonetheless, and you can feel free to answer," she informed him, unconsciously adjusting her posture as she pulled the questions out of her bag.

"Might I say my congratulations, or are they really in order?" Riddle said, and Hermione blinked.

"For what?" she questioned, her heart racing.

"The ring on your left hand, wouldn't that mean you have a forthcoming engagement?"

"Oh, that," Hermione muttered as she began twisting her small, but elegant, engagement ring.

"No thank you?" Riddle mockingly gasped and pressed a hand against his chest. "I'm appalled. I thought that you were the polite one of your little, pathetic trio."

"Enough," Hermione groused, and she held the questions from Kingsley in front of her face.

"Fine, on with your stupid questions, on one condition," Riddle said, waving his hand.

"What condition?" Hermione asked, her foot beginning to tap against the ground.

"I get to ask you questions in return for each one you ask me," he informed, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

"Why? Why would you want that, of anything?" she questioned.

"Oh, is that your first question? Then I suppose the game is on." Riddle smirked at her victoriously and continued. "Because I need some sort of prize, and there is not much the Ministry or you could offer me is there? And I require entertainment from this boredom. The voices within the confines of this room are becoming tedious, full of annoying drivel. I've heard it all before, and now I desire to know something new."

"Fine, onto my first question," Hermione began.

"No, it's my turn. What you said before, that was a question, it counts," he snapped. "Who are you engaged to? If it's Potter I may vomit."

"No, it's not Harry. His name is Ron," she replied, but Riddle waved his hand for her to continue. "Weasley, Ron Weasley."

"Ah, the freckled, ginger Weasel, I remember him well. He seems quite like your subordinate," Riddle remarked.

"Excuse me?! Ron is not my subordinate. Only you have subordinates," Hermione countered. Riddle said nothing, but gave a simple nod of his head, beckoning her to continue.

"Right, my turn. How long have you been back?" she asked.

"Hmm," he pondered. "I have no idea."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, it's my turn," Riddle reminded, and Hermione grumbled. "Why don't you wish to marry the Weasel?"

"How do you-?" Hermione began to ask, but once again she was cut off.

"My turn," he reminded once more, his nostrils flaring.

"Right," Hermione mumbled. "I suppose because I don't love him the way I should."

"How disappointing," Riddle commented, and stood from his seat and began to pace around.

Hermione suddenly groaned, and Riddle pursed. "I have enough of this shit. These questions are shit, and it's not like you'll respond to any of them properly or subject yourself to Veritaserum!"

"Tsk, profanities, not what I had expected from Potter's golden girl," Riddle teased, strolling closer to her chair.

"One thing I'll give you is that you're intelligent, very intelligent. I've studied your file thousands of times, your Hogwarts records, records from the orphanage, everything! But yet, there's nothing!" Hermione exclaimed, standing from her own chair, turning her back on Riddle as her hands ran through her hair. "Screw you! Screw you for returning!" And she flipped back around, her finger prodding against his chest. "Screw you for ever existing in the first place!"

They were a breath's length away from each other, and neither spoke a word, though his dark eyes glanced down at her ring, and his finger drifted over it, daring itself to touch it. But Riddle's breath kept growing thicker as he glared at her, his dark eyes piercing through, as though he could read her thoughts, read into her soul. A shiver ran up her spine as she watched as he raised his hands. In a blur, he pushed her against the closest wall.

"I recommend," Riddle sneered, "that you don't say another fucking word."

His grip upon her grew tighter with each second, and her side began to flare up again, a small pain hidden within her. She reached for her wand and blasted him away from her. He slammed against his chair, and fell to the floor, unconscious, but unfortunately still breathing.

"Fuck you," Hermione growled, and while he was still unconscious she kicked his stomach, but he didn't react. "Fuck you!"

She fell to her knees next to him, and her hands went to her head as she grew breathless. Her throat grew tight, and she could feel the tears in her eyes.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, and the tears flooded. She slammed her head against his steel chair, his scent pushing inside her nostrils, but Riddle did not stir.

Now she no longer cared, because he existed. He was cognizant and so was she, yet this time around she was the failure. All she had was the familiar pain in her side reminding her of all that she has ever done wrong.

xXx

Riddle's eyes blinked open as he became aware once more. He did not know how much time had passed. Had he slept? No, the cold floor underneath his face told him otherwise. Groaning, he propped himself off of the floor as a sharp pain flared on his back and in the crook of his neck.

His eyes looked up towards the bushy-haired brat, sitting in her damned chair in the corner. She did not care to look at him, and suddenly he remembered what had happened. The fucking minx!

He refused to grant her the pleasure of him groaning in pain anymore, so he furtively sidled himself on his chair, and stretched out his back, willing the pain away. It was a damn powerful stunning curse she had used on him. No matter her dirty blood, he knew she was powerful, a strong force, the perfect thing to feed off of. She would never notice how useful she is to him. He wished someone else could have been in her position. Even the Weasel; his blood was at least pure, and he would not be thinking _these _thoughts.

'_The weasel,' _Riddle wished to snarl at the thought of him. Disgusting little, idiotic brat, and he was engaged to that powerful witch. No matter how much Riddle detested those who brought him down the second time, she was powerful, and the Weasel did not deserve to feed off her intelligence and her power.

Her power belonged to him, and she did not even know it.

The minx glanced up from her paperwork and had the fucking nerve to smirk at him as she recognized his pain. Riddle noted the dark circles under her eyes, revealing her tired state. She would not even dare to take a small nap while he was unconscious. Though, he also saw a wetness lingering underneath her eyes. She had been…_upset? _How strange. Riddle could not even remember if he had ever even cried. There was no use to it, but of course, she is female.

Her eyes drifted back down to her paperwork, and she refused to say another word. No more pathetic questions that her superior drew up. She had been correct in saying that he would not answer her, at least not properly or truthfully. He would only eat or drink food Nott delivered to him. Even if the minx gave him something, it would be laced with potions. Nott was too feeble minded to even do that.

"I'd like to continue the questions we did before, but you must ask me your own questions instead of the Minister's," Riddle suddenly said, knowing exactly what he desired. Her delicious, brown, doe-like eyes looked at him with innocence he knew she did not possess.

"Fine, once I come up with some," she replied, and returned to her work.

Riddle smiled, and it went without her noticing.

No, she did not know how useful she had been.

Oh, but how he could use her.

xXx

_A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Things will pick up more in the next chapter. This was a bit of a filler as you can tell. _

_Please leave a review __J_

_Again, I would love to thank you all again for your support. It means so much!_

_Love,_

_Montley_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I am so sorry for the delay with this chapter. I will try to get the next one out very soon! Thank you to all of my wonderful readers, especially those who reviewed, keep 'em coming ;) _

xXx

Chapter Four

These days, Riddle was still a mystery to himself. He had his theories, his reasons how he had come into being, once again. All of the dark magic he had endured throughout his lifetime was admittedly confusing and somewhat muddled. But, oh Merlin, it was all worth it.

His memory remains befuddled, with clouds swirling within the pits he so desperately craves to reach. He knows was supposedly happened to him, he knows how his life had played out, and he knows that he's back. Yes, he is back for good.

He does not sleep anymore. The light and the voices within his room do not bother him, and he has no need for comfort nor a need for sleep. Never is he tired nor drowsy, but he loves seeing Nott's eyes falter during every shift of his. Nott is obviously physically and mentally weak, a perfect subordinate and victim. His father had been a loyal slave, perhaps this one… No, no, he was sided with Granger, thus, Nott would have to be disposed of.

Yet, he no longer recalls the glorious feeling that soars through his veins when a light leaves a person's eyes. He knows who he has killed, and he knows that he had enjoyed it, that he lived and thrived upon the taste and the screams his victims would shriek, and how they would beg, plead for their pathetic lives. But he cannot remember it. Not fully. Not the way he wanted. Not the feelings. He supposed though, that once one has a shattered soul, that feeling that he desires may never be quenched. And since he has been reborn, he has not felt it once, because of that _bloody witch _and the fucking useless Minister_. _

It was all her fault in the first place, and she then dared lock him up! In a place that could truly test his sanity, so now she knew, that he had none left. But he didn't care what she thought, no, he had plans. She was only a pawn lying within his game of chess.

Unfortunately, he needed the damn witch. If he had the choice, he would have chosen anyone else, someone without her threshold for intelligence and spite. Preferably a pureblood. Hell, he'd even take a slimy Malfoy. He knew he could break her though, erase her independence and make her his, but he hated being dependent upon her existence. It sickened him how refreshing it was when she was in the room with him, how alive he feels. He would have even taken over that Weasley girl again. She had been very useful those many years ago. Of course, she had been young and susceptible, without a clue. Now she had fucking Potter protecting her.

Though, it would be nothing answering the mudblood's questions. It no longer mattered what he revealed about himself to her, not even he knew how to destroy him this time. Horcruxes, how beautiful they were. No, her questions meant nothing, but his questions meant everything. He needed to grasp her and her consciousness. The more she revealed, the more he could break her into millions of shiny, sharp pieces.

Riddle could leave the damn Department of Mysteries whenever he'd like. He just wouldn't. Not yet. Granger had to fear him. She has to be able to shiver whenever his name is uttered, whenever the thought of him crosses her mind. _She _isn't allowed to be numb. No.

And he needed to know more about her, just like she needed to know more about him, how he came back. Perhaps, she would give him insight into his sheer madness. She'd kill herself though if she knew, and he can't have that.

Yet, the way he had come back into being, he had not even known it had been possible, and cannot fully grasp this concept or what it exactly was, how it was done. He simply knows the gist and theories. His theories though were normally correct. When _Potter _had flung his own curse back towards him, his old body, Riddle no longer had _hope, _and hope was once a thing he had used to wish to crush within his pointed fingertips. But then, it was gone, and he had been floating away from Hogwarts with screams in his blood red eyes, until he could see his body lying upon the cold ground of Hogwarts, the only thing he could ever say, or will ever say, he loved.

And his soul, though small, fragile, screaming into the deep darkness that was the end of the world, was sewn together in ways he never imagined, and ways he wished to comprehend. There was now only a portion of his original infant self left. Though, he wished he could live without a soul binding him to this ground, forcing him to wander among other humans. Definitely, he would make a deal with Satan, but how can he? When he is already the devil himself.

xXx

What does one ask the devil? Hermione wondered to herself. Kingsley, at least when it came to other people's personal issues and personalities, was useless. Yes, he was a genius when it came to politics and managing the Wizarding world, but, Hermione felt no guilt in saying his drawn-up questions for Riddle were utter shit. It was as though he printed out the guidelines for an interview for a position for a Muggle job.

Riddle was bound to yell, snarl, and he was prone to violence. He hasn't raised a hand to her, not yet_. _But if he was in possession of his wand, everyone would surely all die. Though because of the other night, Hermione was disappointed in herself. _She _was the one who had lost control. Not Riddle this time. She regretted it. Now she thought that there was no way Riddle could take her seriously anymore. Thankfully, Nott and Kingsley had shifts that day and the day previous. Hermione did not have to worry about seeing Riddle until the morning.

Yet, he still remained keen on her asking him questions while he asked her questions in return. It was interesting and peculiar of him. Psychologists would have had a field day. His behavior was not how she would have predicted it to be. At times, he was calm and suave, other times; he was an angst-ridden, bigot. She knew that he carried all of his memories, but it was as though he had never matured sometimes.

Hermione's hands ran up to her hair and pulled it back in a ponytail, a few strands gracing against the side of her face. Her face scrunched up as she scratched another question onto her parchment.

A whoosh then sounded from her fireplace within her living room, but she did not lift her head. It was only Ron. It was always Ron. His feet thudded throughout her flat, but she did not make a squeak, he would find her quickly. The door to her bedroom clicked open, and Ron peaked in.

"You ready?" Ron asked.

"Hmm," Hermione muttered, her eyes scanning over her parchment, hoping that Ron would give up and leave her alone. After this, she had wanted to relax, sink into the comfort of her bed, for she had an early shift in the morning. Ron groaned, and without looking up she felt him sit upon her mattress.

"Mum invited us for dinner tonight. Remember?" he reminded, annoyance dripping into his words.

"Aw crap!" Hermione exclaimed, pressing her hand against her forehead. "I forgot."

"What does Quentin Bulstrode have you working on now that takes you away from me?" Ron asked sadly.

"Actually, it's an assignment from Kingsley," Hermione let slip. "It's brutal."

"But that's great, good opportunity for you I guess," Ron said. "I'm just, I guess, annoyed with Kingsley for doing this shit to you. You're always so tired and you can never do anything anymore. And Mum wanted to talk about the wedding, and Harry and Ginny were gonna come over to the Burrow too."

Hermione moaned to herself, her lips shaping into a frown. "I-I'll come."

"Really? Because you don't have to," Ron added, his ears perking up like a dog's, and if he were a dog, he would no doubt be furiously wagging his tail. For, he always craved his mother's home cooking, take-out food and easy prepared dinners were simply not enough for his bottomless stomach.

"Yeah, just give me a few minutes," she requested as she started filing her questions away. She supposed that they'll have to do for now, they were not going to get any better, and Riddle probably would not allow her to ask all of them quite yet.

So soon, she and Ron flooed to his parent's home whilst Hermione was anxious, thinking about the parchment she had left behind, thinking about Riddle. How he was just sitting there, in his damned steel chair, smirking and never sleeping.

Mr and Mrs Weasley greeted her warmly when she and Ron entered the Burrow, but they had unfortunately arrived before both Harry and Ginny. Mrs Weasley squealed with delight and instantly drowned Hermione within her litany of thoughts about her and Ron's wedding ceremony. Hermione found herself faltering in and out of space. Ron should have let her sleep if she were to listen to this nonsense. She loved Mrs Weasley with all of her heart, but her overbearingness was annoying, especially with trivial matters such as this.

Thankfully, Harry and Ginny soon swooped in, and Mrs Weasley moved onto her own blood-related daughter, talking endlessly over Ginny's pregnancy after she congratulated Harry. Ron was busy talking with his father, and that left her and Harry alone. Every moment she spoke with Harry, she was filled with a saturnine guilt. He deserved to know everything, but Kingsley always refused.

"Hermione!" he greeted, and enveloped her within a hug.

"Forgot to give my congratulations to you, but I'm so excited for you guys," Hermione told him. "It's riveting!"

"I'm still in shock myself," Harry replied, mindlessly adjusting his askew glasses.

"Any name options?" Hermione teased.

"Yes, actually," Harry informed, his voice taking on a serious tone. "Tom Marvolo."

"What?" Hermione blanked, suddenly feeling light.

Harry's mouth formed a grin, "Just kidding, but, uh, I suppose you'll know when the baby's born. Ginny thinks that if we tell our prospective names, that you all will look at it with disgust, so when the baby is born, no one can complain about its name."

Hermione felt the blood rush back to her face, and she smiled. "Oh yeah, my mum was the same. Though she claims when she saw me, she just knew I was Hermione Jean."

Harry grinned, but before he could speak, Mrs Weasley ushered them all to the dinner table, and Hermione found herself thrown into yet another conversation about weddings and babies. As the conversation went along, she found herself simply nodding and agreeing to whatever Mrs Weasley said. It was not like she was getting married anytime soon. There was no need to begin planning, especially because of work and Riddle, there was simply no time to spare for it.

Finally, she and Ron were able to leave at ten, and he gave her a kiss goodbye before he parted for his own flat. No matter how much she loved spending time with these people, she did not have time, she had her responsibilities and Riddle to fret about.

But she knew one thing for sure, from the happy look upon Harry's face, and the gleaming in his green eyes, and the child growing within Ginny.

The Aurors ought to know, and they ought to know soon.

xXx

Hermione was back, staring at him. He had not moved nor had he even flinched or blinked his black, crazed eyes. Riddle was waiting for her to speak, to utter a single word. But she was not ready, and yet she had to be.

"Good morning, Tom," she said, her mouth a flat line.

"Good morning, Granger," Riddle reciprocated, his head tilting to the side as he studied her.

"You're not bothered by the name your mother gave you?" Hermione pondered, leaning closer to him.

"Is that a question?"

"Well, that wasn't an answer," she snapped.

"It means nothing coming from your slippery lips, you use it to get a rise out of me, and I shall not let you. You can play your insipid games with someone else," Riddle answered.

"I see, you wanted your questions, didn't you?" Hermione reminded.

"My turn."

"But I-."

"My turn," he ground out, and his eyes glinted red before he relaxed back into his seat. "I've been thinking this over, and I wish for you to tell me, how did it feel to get your Hogwarts letter as an eleven year old girl?"

Hermione swallowed her breath that she did not even realize she took. _What game was he playing. _"I-it felt satisfying, as though, I finally knew I belonged somewhere, that my parents would see me as someone special instead of a-," and she paused.

"Go on," he pestered, his sadistic grin returning.

"A monster," she finished, pressing her lips together, sensing his eyes looking at them. He opened his mouth to speak, but she won. "My turn."

Riddle nodded, "Very well, go on, little monster."

Hermione glared at him as she pulled out her parchment, and she felt his insane, boggling eyes wander to it. "Why did you settle for horcruxes, while you could have found other options?"

He clicked his tongue. "The simplicity of the process. I assume you understand that murder is nothing to me, taking away a life is pleasurable even. And making the horcruxes would ensure that I would return if and when harm came to me, and here I am, returned for a second time as though the world craves for me to survive endlessly and youthfully."

"Nothing! It doesn't mean shit to you that you took someone's life with a wave of your wand?"

"Oh," he teased. "My dear, I could take yours just as easily."

"You're sick," she sneered.

"You say that like you're healthy," he mentioned, his tongue sliding over his top lip. "My turn, dear. Why did your parents think you a monster?"

"Before," she began, but paused, inhaling the swirling air and the giggling voices around her, "Before I knew magic was real, that I wasn't making it up, I caused bad things. I was bullied in primary school. It was all minor, until one time when I was seven, this girl was picking on me, like she always did, except this time, I had had enough of her crap. I wanted her gone."

Hermione's voice cracked as the memory came rushing back, she could not breathe, and her throat swelled, and she knew that this was pleasurable to Riddle.

"Do go on, I'm enthralled," he encouraged.

"Her face had suddenly sunk into itself, into despair and pain. She twitched from the inside out, the pain was controlling her, and I couldn't stop it. It was me, but all I could do was scream. I didn't mean for it, but it lasted forever until teachers came running and my other classmates surrounded the two of us. The pain subsided when one teacher quieted me," Hermione elaborated, and the tears strolled down her cheeks, and so she began to wipe them away.

"Please, I beg of you more," Riddle persisted, and Hermione sighed, looking away from his imperturbable gaze.

"The girl became insane, never returning to a normal school. Throughout the years I have checked in on her, and nothing has changed for her since that day. When I had told me parents the story when I returned home that day, they were afraid of me. Before that, I had shown my capabilities with the silliest things. The teachers at my school became afraid too, but they couldn't prove what I had done, and they had pathetically been my only friends. Soon, my family and I moved, but it wasn't the same. I became cautious from then on, kept to myself and my books, until the letter came, and I knew I could finally learn to control myself," Hermione finished and bit her lip, staring at her twitching feet.

Riddle had watched in sick yearning as Hermione finished her story and the tears continued to fall down her cheeks, down down down. He wanted to taste her salty tears. Oh, he had been wrong about Miss Hermione Granger. So wrong indeed.

Hermione began to compose herself, and she started her next question without looking towards him. "Did you consider other precautions for immortality?"

Riddle took a moment before replying, "I'm sure you know of my quest for the Elixir of Life during your first year of Hogwarts, which Flamel had destroyed after your precious Potter fought myself and that worm, Quirrell. But besides for that and Unicorn blood to restore myself during that time, no. It was horcruxes only. Unfortunately, I had not been able to form seven, and seven being the most magical number…" he began.

"You never knew did you?" Hermione questioned, wiping the remaining tears away as a victorious smile took over.

"What are you talking about, girl?" he snapped, sitting ever the more straighter in his steal chair.

"You had seven horcruxes, but you were so broken and in disrepair that you never realized!" Hermione exclaimed, her tired, saddened eyes widening in realization.

"You lie, there were only six, and you and your filthy friends and Dumbledore destroyed them," he responded with a hiss.

"No, you see, Harry was a horcrux, that's how he survived in the forest, you killed the piece of yourself within him! It's perfect, isn't it?" Hermione mocked. "And you never knew."

Riddle did not utter another word, but his eyes glared daggers towards Hermione, and his lips twitched. He was burning inside, and he was shaking. He studied his flinching hands in front of them, how they craved to wrap around her throat, for he had never felt such an urge to murder her, and just when he was beginning to appreciate her meager existence, she had to tell him, she just had to. She was more like him than she believed, for she tasted the sadistic pleasure out of this, and thus, she could be potentially dangerous. He would have fun, but in all due time.

Finally, he opened his mouth. "I have enough of these questions for today. Pester me another time."

And Hermione knew she won as Riddle thought of his life to come.

xXx

_A/N: Thank you all for reading the chapter! I hope that you all liked, I personally think it came out well, especially as I kept changing around what I wanted to happen here!_

_Please leave a review :) !_

_Love you all!_


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